The Seventh
by KellyFoo-TI
Summary: Voldemort's war has been going on for years, and the trio is now grown, juggling real lives with helping the Order. Harry, emotionally withdrawn from his friends, nows leads the Order, watching everyone else around him continue to live, while he knows, e


Chapter 1 - Clues

Number 12, it was safe to say, was at least much cheerier than it had been of recent decades, and, as best as Harry could guess, recent centuries. Since it was the largest portion of his inheritance, it seemed vital that he keep it, since it was such a secure location. He'd had it fifteen years now, and it had taken all fifteen of those years, all one-hundred-and-eighty months, to make it a safe and nearly-pleasant living environment. Harry wasn't sure it was his favorite place to live, or work, or plan and plot, but he knew it was safe and dependable, and he at least had the comfort of knowing that Ron and Hermione Weasley lived with him.

Harry was taking advantage of some solitude in the darkened kitchen to look over the rest of the notes, the general hints and clues at what must be done. He would have preferred to have a cool, outdoor place to work like he had had so many years ago beside the lake at Hogwarts, but most of the world was now dirty, dank, and corrupt.

Since the time of Harry's taking over the Order, not long after his announcement that he would not be returning to Hogwarts for his seventh year, he'd been living in Number 12 and watching the world around him sink into an altogether unpleasant place. Werewolves and vampires were now unafraid of persecution, thus victims were taken every day and children were disappearing. He was unsatisfied with the quality of his privacy, since the muggle world now knew about the likes of his kind. Not only did he have millions of wizards and witches competing for his help and time, he now had the muggle population in the know about his legacy, and he sadly had to accept that now that the wizarding world was no longer hidden, his last few chances for privacy were shattered. It was partly because of this that he pushed away the still-unwed Ginny, and it was partly the reason he had become something of a hermit, beginning to feel a sinking understanding for the despair Sirius once felt.

Sighing over his papers, he closed is eyes and thrust his face into his upturned palms, his glasses pressing to his face. It would only be a week before Alba, Ron and Hermione's daughter, went back to school. At least Little Harry, Fred and Angelina's son, would still totter about whenever his father, mother, or Uncle George popped in.

_At least we can watch Hogsmeade with a Wheezes shop there, _Harry chimed into his own thoughts optimistically. That thought, however, added to the fact that either Fred or George would have to Apparate to and from Hogsmeade nearly every day. The only consolation was that the dark side did not yet know where all of their protective clothing came from…

Harry couldn't think straight, and his head felt like it was just about ready to roll off of his shoulders. With all of the parents gone shopping at Diagon Alley, Mr. Weasley working full time as the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, with Mrs. Weasley back at the Burrow, and the rest of the Order all scattered out to the four corners of the globe, Harry was experiencing a keen bitter-sweet sensation. While he finally had a near-silent house to work in, he realized just how much he'd miss having Ron and Hermione's daughter, so much like Ginny, running about the house so cheerfully. _Don't think of that now, _he snapped at himself reproachfully in his head.

Horcruxes…most of the papers in front of his babbled on and on about horcruxes. They'd found six thus far…and there was no clue as to what the last might be. The sixth one had only been destroyed weeks ago; Harry had been hoping time would kill the stupid snake that Voldemort called a pet, but unfortunately it outlived most of it's master's servants and still thrived…until Harry's informants somehow got their hands on it. The constant thorn in his side, however, was that lingering fact that, perhaps, he, himself, was one of these soul-particles. Every time the thought came to mind, he involuntarily shuddered, and he felt as though his heart would stop beating.

Why did it seem so hard to think? Perhaps it was due to the fact that the said shiver was coming more and more often; after all, nearly all the clues pointed towards the Boy Who Lived. In that case, he'd have to somehow…no, Ginny would give him a black eye if he thought like that.

He made a decision, though. He had to, because if he didn't do it, no one could do it for him. Should he be the final horcrux, he would willingly fall in any way that opportunity presented, hopefully at the same instant as the demise of his nemesis. Unfortunately, fate had a fickle way of changing its mind, and things would probably not go that easily. After all, Albus Dumbledore was still dead, Sirius Black had never returned, and Severus Snape had disappeared mysteriously to turn up as a corpse in an alley in London. No one had been ready to take the blame for that death, although all sides had reasons to kill him, Harry especially. He still had dreadful dreams about watching the great Professor Dumbledore tip over the edge of the parapet to crumple ungracefully in a much-too-fragile position far below on the emerald grounds.

Harry made a mental note to Apparate to Hogsmeade sometime; he'd have to walk to Hogwarts and visit his mentor's grave before he did anything drastic.

Just as his thoughts were getting much too melancholy for his taste, he heard steps approaching, and his stress-fried brain clicked as he looked up, realizing it was Ginny that stood before him. She looked as though she wanted to say something, as though her feelings needed to be uttered or else she'd cease to exist, but she stood there in silence for a good many moments before quickly saying as nonchalantly as possible, "Any luck?" She frowned when it was instantaneously responded with a firm head-shake, and she took the liberty to pull out a chair and sit opposite Harry. At this, the Chosen One fairly panicked, and scrambled to pull all the muggle paper and parchment to him quickly, hoping that Ginny did not read what she'd dreaded for the longest time. Her confused and slightly amused look was enough to tell Harry that she hadn't seen anything too awful painful to mentally and emotionally digest, and he sighed deeply in relief.

"Uh…kinda?" Harry was still horrible at lying to Ginny; she could read him like an open book, and his horrific fear of her realizing his dark near-premonitions kept him from being altogether smooth. Ginny quirked a brow, trying to seem good-naturedly confused and failing to hide a bit a hurt at his lack of information.

"Kinda? Well…kinda-luck is better than no luck at all." Shrugging, trying to seem as though she weren't getting fed up with this round-about game, she turned and walked up the stairs, leaving the room empty of all but Harry and his pained expression.

Sighing in relief and shame, Harry hung his head between his shoulders and shook it slowly, wishing it were as simple as being able to tell her the truth. Standing, he gathered his papers into a neater pile and walked out of the room, turning to head up the stairs towards his room. Looking up, though, he didn't see an empty stairwell; there was a masculine face and a head a red hair directly in front of him.

"What did you say to Ginny, Harry?" Ron seemed both a bit angry as well as concerned at having seen his grown sister rush past him, obviously upset. Harry had admitted a few clues to Ron that he may have been a horcrux…but nothing more than a few inklings. Harry pushed past him and headed up the stairs.

"Ron, I didn't say anything. And that's why she's upset, alright?" He just continued up the stairs to his room, cursing the fact that Ron, Hermione, and Alba had returned from Diagon Alley just in time to see Ginny once again upset because Harry couldn't love her like she wanted.


End file.
